


Can't Help But Stare (You Can Look)

by Rinari7



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: (hints of it anyways), Exhibitionism, F/F, I think anyways (my definition of "innocent" is sometimes off), Internalized Homophobia, It's way more innocent than that sounds, Sharing a Room, Voyeurism, kind of, non-graphic nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-16 05:26:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15429957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinari7/pseuds/Rinari7
Summary: Myka's mind is definitely not on discussing the case.





	Can't Help But Stare (You Can Look)

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic for this pair, and I'm both scared and excited, because these two have gripped me so so hard and, just, my heart.
> 
> Set sometime in S2, after Helena rejoins the Warehouse but before that "many of my lovers were men" comment. *grin*

“I'm sure there's some connection we're just not seeing,” Helena murmurs, right before she strips her shirt off.

Her suitcase is open on her twin hotel bed, a whisper-thin tank top and silk boxers already laid out for her to sleep in this muggy summer heat, though Myka doubts they’ll be much more modest than if Helena just slept in her underwear. Her bra is solid black, practical, its sheer simplicity drawing the eye over the curves it covers just as well as any lace or ribbon. Toned shoulders testify to the strength Myka felt as Helena had lifted them both out of the way of that SUV, as do the taut planes of her stomach — and is that a piercing? Did Claudia —

“Myka?” Helena tilts her head, the beginnings of an amused smile tugging at the corner of her lips, and — oh God she's been staring.

Her cheeks heat up, and she quickly drops her gaze to the floor, turning her head away, clutching her own pyjamas a little closer to herself. “I'm — do you want some privacy?” She'd punch Pete for staring at her as she had at Helena, though to be fair Helena hadn't told her not to look — but then she wouldn't necessarily assume another woman would be looking at her —  _ voraciously _ , supplies that little devil from its cage far in the back of her mind. She's just waiting for the rebuffing, the why-on-earth-were-you-staring, so that Helena’s next words catch her by surprise.

“I certainly don't mind if you look at me. If you'd like.” It's quiet, a gentle invitation.

“Wait, wha —" She blinks. "You don't mind?” Myka’s not a prude, she’s  _ not _ , but she'd gone to college with drunken sorority sisters slurring ‘ _ that's so gay’ _ in her ear, with remnants of a time when sodomy was a punishable offense lingering in her literature classes — remnants of Helena’s time, even.

“I did just say that, didn't I?” Helena arches an eyebrow at her and somehow, Myka can breathe again. “Do you want to see?” Frank, but cautious, so very much the Helena Wells Myka has recently come to know (and sometimes it still seems surreal, that H.G. Wells,  _ the _ H.G. Wells is her colleague now, standing right in front of her, asking...)

“Yes.” Breathless, a little hoarse, it slips over her lips before she can even think it. “I would.” Her heart gallops against her ribcage and this is  _ not _ a path she should go down again, they're colleagues, and —

In one smooth movement, Helena reaches behind herself, unclips her bra, and lets it fall. Myka licks her lips, and doubts it will ever be possible to look her fill.


End file.
